


rainy

by orphan_account



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, San Francisco, There's Chocolate. Lots of Chocolate.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Of course, the day Porter and Hugo arrive in San Francisco it starts to pour.This is a prompt fill forpolygoneduston Tumblr! So sorry it's taken this long and I hope you like it.





	

 

            Of course, the day Porter and Hugo arrive in San Francisco it starts to _pour._ They’re walking along the Embarcadero when it happens. Crowds of pedestrians come to a stop along the sidewalk, staring and pointing at something out in the bay. “What’s going on?” Porter asks Hugo, who shrugs.

            “Don’t know. Should we go take a look?”

            “Probably.” They step up to the railing and lean out, trying to figure out why everybody around them has stopped.

            Hugo sees it first. He wraps a hand around Porter’s forearm, pulling him back from the railing and away from the water. “Port, let’s go. We shouldn’t be caught out in that.”

            Porter squints through the fog. “Caught in what?”

            “Caught in that.” Hugo points to show him where the problem is, and Porter’s eyes widen.

            “Holy _shit_ that’s a lot of rain!” The front blows towards them, staining the bay dark grey from the sheer amount of water pouring down from above.

            Hugo reaches out and grabs Porter’s hand, and they sprint across the street towards cover. The incoming clouds finally reach them, dumping rain on everybody unlucky enough to be outside. “Where the hell’s the hotel?” Porter asks. “And why did we decide to _walk_ here?”

            Porter and Hugo dive under a nearby overhang. Water drips down the front, but where they stand is dry. “I thought California was in a drought,” Hugo whines. Porter rings out his hair.

            “Not anymore,” Porter supplies, though it is hardly a necessary addition. “It ended earlier this month.”

            “Helpful.” Hugo snorts. There aren’t many taxis in San Francisco anymore, so he’s not sure how much luck they’ll have if they try to hail one.

            “We should keep moving towards the hotel,” Porter sighs. “Assuming you know the way back, of course. It isn’t much warmer under here and the quicker we get back the quicker we can warm up again.”

            Hugo can’t argue against that. “Alright. Let’s go.” Porter takes his hand again and they step back out into the downpour.

            They set a brisk enough pace that the chill fades to tolerable. Hugo and Porter pass by a variety of pedestrians stuck out in the rain, including one memorable lady who accidentally smacked Hugo in the face with a bunch of tulips in her hurry to get inside.

            But eventually Hugo and Porter can’t avoid the inevitable any longer. Porter shivers violently, praying the walk will soon be over. Hugo feels Porter’s shivers where Porter’s palm presses against his, and Hugo’s mouth twists. He takes a quick look around for a place that looks warm and inviting, and his gaze falls upon a familiar red sign.

            “Come on, Port,” he tells Porter, and they run the rest of the way up to the shop. Dozens of tiny chocolate creations decorate the display windows, and even as cold as he is they make Porter’s mouth water.

            “Teuscher,” Porter reads, and Hugo breaks out into a wide grin. “Hugo, isn’t this the same chocolatier you got chocolates from while we were in Tokyo?”

            “Yup!” Hugo enters the store and Porter scrambles to catch up.

            The ladies behind the counter stare at them wide-eyed, and neither Porter nor Hugo can tell if it’s because the ladies recognize them or if it’s because they’re dripping water all over the black floor. It’s much warmer inside the shop, and feeling begins to flow back into Porter’s limbs.

            “Welcome to Teuscher,” the cashier finally says, and Hugo grins at her.

            “Thank you! Terribly sorry about your floor. May we have two European hot chocolates with whipped cream?” Hugo hands over the required amount, and even the bills are wet so they are set out to dry. The baristas begin working on the order, and Hugo and Porter find a small table in the back at which to sit. Porter’s hand finds Hugo’s under the table as they wait for their drinks.

            “Two European hot chocolates?”

            “Thanks!” Porter smiles as the heat of the drink warms his palms. He’s still dripping, but at least he’s warmer now. Hugo takes a sip of the chocolate, and Porter follows suit.

 _“Wow.”_ It’s silkier than the usual hot chocolate, richer and piping hot too. “That’s _good.”_

            Hugo’s watching Porter from behind his cup. “You have cream on your lip, _chèri,”_ he notes, and Porter quickly hunts it down.

            Eventually, their cups are empty and they no longer have an excuse to stay in the warmth of the store. Hugo and Porter are just about to open the door and head back out into the deluge when one of the baristas comes up to them and taps Hugo on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sirs?” She holds a clear umbrella, and she extends it towards them as she continues. “I won’t be needing this because I’m going to carpool home, so you should take it.”

            Porter almost melts in relief. “Thank you, but are you sure?” Hugo asks her, and the barista nods.

            “Very! You need it much more than I do.”

            “Thank you very much _madame!”_ The employees wave as Hugo and Porter step outside, so they wave back. Hugo opens up the umbrella takes Porter’s hand with the other.

            “Are you ready?” Hugo asks, and Porter shrugs. “Stay close to me and you should stay relatively dry.” Porter scoots in closer and together they step out into the rain.

            They’ve gone a few blocks when Porter suddenly laughs. “You’re giving me shelter from the storm,” he realizes, and Hugo looks at him and snorts.

_“Mais bien sûr!”_

            “I don’t speak French, Hugo.” Hugo’s glasses have slipped a little bit, so Porter reaches up and adjusts them for him so he doesn’t have to let go.

            “But of course!”

            If anyone notices when Hugo wraps Porter up in his coat, no one around them says anything.

            The rain _does_ make it a little hard to see, after all.

 


End file.
